


A Good Catch

by RosYourBoat



Category: Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Attempted Sexual Assault, Friends to Lovers, Glasses, M/M, T'hy'la
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-24
Updated: 2015-08-24
Packaged: 2018-04-17 02:11:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4648290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RosYourBoat/pseuds/RosYourBoat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Enterprise is playing host--and babysitter--to a traveling ambassador from Earth, who is rather impressed with Jim Kirk's many attractive attributes. Unfortunately for him, Jim's heart lies elsewhere.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Good Catch

**Author's Note:**

> Part of my recent excavation and expunction of all of my old fics from my hard drive to an online form, where they can be held as an indelible and inescapable memento of my past obsessions. These fics are all unbeta'd and heretofore unseen by anyone but me. I hope someone else feels some of the enjoyment I received from writing them.
> 
> "A Good Catch" was written in January of 2010, and it is complete.

Kirk sat sprawled out in his command chair, swiveling it idly side to side with the toe of his boot as he stared out of the viewing screen at the approaching starbase. It was the end of a long, three-month streak of stressful missions and they were long overdue for a shore leave. Luckily, Starfleet had granted it to them, provided they jumped through the hoops of bureaucracy first. They would get their leave after transporting a visiting dignitary from Starbase 4 to Starbase 12. Kirk wasn’t pleased with using the _Enterprise_ , his lovely Lady, as a taxi service, but it was well worth it for three luxurious weeks at the largest starbase in the sector.

“Approaching Starbase 4, Captain. We can dock within the hour.”

“Slow to warp one, Sulu. Lieutenant Uhura, contact the starbase and alert them to our arrival. We can beam up Ambassador Johnstead whenever he is ready for us.”

“Aye, sir.”

“Yes, sir.”

Kirk pressed the button for a ship-wide announcement. “This is the captain speaking. We will be docking at Starbase 4 within the hour and receiving the Tennisian ambassador. I don’t think I need to remind you to remain courteous and respectful to our guest while he is with us. This is the best crew in Starfleet; let’s show it. Kirk out.”

He pressed the button again and gave a silent sigh, manipulating his full bottom lip with his fingers in thought. He noticed that Spock had straightened from his customary position over the sensors at the science station and was watching him. He raised his eyes and shared one of those meaningful looks that seemed to contain entire conversations. It was an action he often shared with both Bones and Spock and it never failed to give him a sense of comfort and closeness.

“Mr. Spock, I believe it’s time for us to change into dress uniforms for our guest’s impending arrival.” He said finally with some reluctance. He hated the stiff, itchy fabric. He was convinced he was developing an allergic reaction to it.

“Indeed, Captain.”

Kirk pressed the button for the security deck. “Security.”

“Samuels here, sir.”

“Have a party of four security officers in dress uniform at the transporter room to receive the ambassador, Samuels.”

“Yes, Captain.”

“Kirk out. Engineering.”

“Aye, Captain.”

“Scotty, I’ll need you in dress uniform at the transporter room when the ambassador arrives.”

“Yes, sir. I’ll be there with me kilt and bagpipes ready for the whole kit’n’caboodle.”

“I’ll look forward to it. Kirk out. Sickbay.”

“McCoy here.”

“Bones, the ambassador will be arriving in the transporter room in an hour. You know what that means.”

“Yeah, an entire night trying to keep my dress collar from strangling me, that’s what it means.”

“You’re dedication astounds me, Doctor.”

“Yeah, I’ll bet it does. I’ll be there, Jim, shiny boots and all.”

“Good. See you then. Kirk out.”

Finally, Kirk turned over command to Sulu and joined Spock where he was waiting at the turbolift. They entered and traveled to the fifth deck in a companionable silence born from years of friendship, trust, and familiarity. They separated at their respective rooms, connected by a shared bathroom, and Kirk shed his clothing for a quick shower. After his shower ended, he passed Spock who was entering clad in a towel, intending to bathe as well.

Kirk quickly tied his own towel around his waist as he nodded at his First Officer but he couldn’t help watching surreptitiously as Spock’s slender and lean body moved with its inherent grace to the sonics stall. He had long appreciated Spock’s positive qualities; first his reliability as a First Officer, then his subtle emotional cues and companionship as an acquaintance, and finally his unwavering loyalty and support as a best friend. And, of course, he hadn’t failed to recognize Spock’s particular physical traits that had long captured Kirk’s eye and his mind. It had been surprising at first, but Kirk wasn’t one to deny what was plainly in his own mind. Even though he knew he wouldn’t do anything to risk his friendship with Spock, he couldn’t stop himself from admiring him from afar nonetheless.

In his room, Kirk shed his towel and rubbed his hair dry. He opened his closet and removed his pressed and starched dress uniform, eying it with dread before shrugging into it. He tugged the gold shirt down after straightening from donning his shoes, absently reminding himself for the thousandth time to get his command shirts tailored a bit longer. The tugging and straightening was practically instinct after three years.

A knock at the bathroom door alerted him to Spock’s readiness. He called him in and combed his hair in a small mirror on the wall. He felt more than saw Spock’s impassive gaze flicker over him.

“You look quite adequate, Captain.”

Kirk grinned. “Thanks, Spock. And you look even more than adequate.” He had always thought that the blue science uniform suited Spock better than the gold he should have been wearing as First Officer. The fact that he chose the blue of the lesser station had always been a quirk that endeared him to Kirk.

A hailing whistle from the intercom interrupted them and Kirk pressed the button to open the channel.

“Kirk here.”

“Captain, communication from Starbase 4 indicates that they are ready to receive us at any time. However, Ambassador Johnstead relays that he would prefer to be leaving as soon as possible.”

Kirk’s eyebrows rose at the ambassador’s presumptuousness and shared a look with Spock as if to say, “He’s going to be one of _those_.”

“Very well, we mustn’t keep the good ambassador waiting. Tell Sulu to dock immediately and beam him up.”

“Yes, sir.”

Kirk closed the channel again and stood for a moment in silent thought, rubbing and squeezing his bottom lip. He wandered to the table where they played chess and leaned his hip on it.

“Spock, what do we know about Ambassador Johnstead?”

“He is a Terran from New York, New York. At thirty-four, he is one of the youngest ambassadors from Earth and by all accounts appears to be a most charming and charismatic man. He has settled many trade disputes that have arisen between the Tennisians and the Federation due to unfamiliarity with their culture. At Starbase 12, he intends to engage in a series of trade agreements that could potentially ensure our use of the metal deposits on their planet, which would enable us to build more star ships.”

“I see.” A minute shudder ran through the ship, unnoticeable to most, but he knew his ship very well. They had docked. “Well, let’s go meet him, shall we?”

In the transporter room, he barely had time to greet Bones and Scotty before a glittering stream of particles was coalescing into the broad form of Ambassador Johnstead. The officers in the room stood at attention while Kirk strode forward to greet him. He noticed the man’s eyes travel up and down his form appraisingly before focusing on his face.

“Ambassador, I’m Captain James Kirk; welcome to the _Enterprise_. These are my officers; Mr. Spock, my second-in-command, Chief Engineer Montgomery Scott, and Chief Medical Officer Leonard McCoy.”

“Gentlemen, I’m honored. Captain, I apologize for my rushed schedule; I wanted to be early to the negotiations on Starbase 12. Your hospitality is greatly appreciated.” The ambassador dipped his head in respect. He wore a blue dress uniform befitting an important ambassador to an alien race and it hugged his broad shoulders and fit body well, Kirk noted absently. His hair was sandy blonde and short while his dark blue eyes sparkled with intelligence and charm in his classically handsome face.

“It’s quite understandable, Ambassador. I have given the order to depart just as soon as our fuel is topped off and your bags are beamed aboard. Why don’t I give you a tour of the ship while we wait?”

“Certainly. Lead on, sir.”

Kirk nodded at his men to dismiss them and led the ambassador into the corridor. Their conversation was casual as they traveled to the mess hall.

“Good afternoon, Captain,” a pair of ensigns greeted just inside the door.

“Hello, Ensign Baker, Tellon,” Kirk said, nodding to each. Tellon’s blue antennae waved cheerfully. “How did your squash match go?”

“Four to zero, sir. He didn’t even know what hit him,” Baker crowed, elbowing Tellon in the side.

“I believe it was your racket, actually,” the alien mumbled as they said a goodbye and left. Several others hailed Kirk as they passed through and he never failed to greet them by name.

“Ah, Michaels, did your new fertilizer work for your Bluebomb plant?”

“Yes, sir! The added lemon did the trick. Herbert’s right as rain now.”

“He names his plants,” Kirk added to the ambassador under his breath. “Hello, Leighton, has your sister fully recovered?”

“Yes sir, she has. It turned out to be a rogue case of the chickenpox, if you can believe it.”

“Captain, how many crewmembers do you have aboard your ship?” The ambassador asked when the female lab technician had left.

“Four hundred and thirty-two,” Kirk replied as they left the mass hall.

“And how many of their names do you know?”

“All of them, of course. I make it a point to get to know the members of my crew. It brings them together and, frankly, they can be very interesting.” Ambassador Johnstead just nodded, looking both astonished and impressed.

The scene repeated itself as they went from the science labs and the bridge, down to the engineering deck where they were stopped again by Scotty.

“Captain, I’ve got a slight discrepancy in our fuel usage numbers. Her right nacelle is not using the same amount of fuel as her left. ‘Tisn’t a large difference yet, but my reports show that the difference is getting bigger as we go. At this rate, we’ll only be running fuel through one side and we’ll overload the engines on that side. I can’t understand it.”

“How big is the difference?” Kirk asked, his attention immediately riveted on the incomprehensible mass of charts the Scotsman was holding.

“1.29% at the moment. About 23.8 cubic meters more fuel is being used by the right’un.”

“These charts say that it will only be three months before we’re only running through one nacelle. Have you checked the fuel lines and the combustor?”

“Aye. Clean as a whistle, they are.”

Kirk fell into silent contemplation for a moment. Then his eyes lit up and he snapped his fingers. “We took damage on the right side during the scuffle with the Tholians four months ago.”

Scotty looked incredulous. “Aye, but t’was only minor damage, Captain. We fixed it within the week and we never had any problems.”

“Yes, but your report said that the outer hull of the nacelle was torn in one place, right?”

“Aye, a wee tiny hole.”

“It doesn’t have to be big. Did maintenance have to clear out some debris that had gotten inside the hull?”

“Yeah, I think so, Captain.”

“The Fisher’s ring within the minor fuel line clamp for the spontaneous combustion chamber is very sensitive to pressure changes and debris. I’ll bet it’s been lodged open.”

Scotty was nodding slowly. “Aye, that’s a sound idea. Williams! Get on the console and check the dilation of the Fisher’s ring on the minor fuel line in the right nacelle.”

“Aye, sir. It’s reading at 2.45 cm.”

“0.25 cm more than it should be,” Kirk said with satisfaction. “Given enough time, it would have been forced open even more from the pressure and the fuel would have run straight through her. Get one of your men up there and tell them to clean around that ring with a magnifying glass and some phenyltryptonol. Remove the debris, tighten it down, and check the tension strength. If the ring doesn’t have a reading of 156 Newtons—157.65 on the outside—take it out and replace it. Got it?”

“Aye, sir! Thank you, sir!” Scotty said, looking relieved that his Lady was going to recover.

Kirk apologized for the delay as they left engineering. “Burdens of command, I’m afraid. Come, your luggage must have arrived ages ago. I’ll show you to your quarters so you can rest before dinner.”

“Certainly, Captain,” Johnstead said, looking dazed. “Do you often solve such intricate problems with your engineers? I’ve had some engineering training and I’ve never even heard of a Fisher’s ring, not to mention its proper dilation or tension strength measurements.”

“Ah, but that is why you are an ambassador and not a star ship captain. I love my ship; no detail of her structure or damage goes unnoticed by me. She is my home and my passion; it’s only right that I should offer her my full attention when it’s due. Chief Engineer Scott is also very good at what he does; it helps when he’s thought of all the mundane answers and just needs me to think of the most unlikely ones.” He winked and grinned at Johnstead’s returning smile.

After dropping off the ambassador at his quarters, Kirk returned to the bridge, sinking into the command chair with a heavy sigh. Spock was by his side a moment later, updating him on the functions of the ship. He fell back into the routine of command gratefully and managed to forget everything until it was time to prepare for dinner.

Dinner passed in a blur of good food and better company. Kirk found that the ambassador—“Call me John; yes, I know, my parents were cruel.”—was full of humor and amusing stories that kept the table (accept for Spock) laughing. Kirk teased Bones about his dress uniform and failed to notice Johnstead’s speculative gaze or anticipatory smiles. He did notice Spock being quieter and more tense than normal, but such was often the case when a stranger was aboard the ship.

After dinner, Johnstead requested that Kirk show him where the recreational rooms were before he retired for the evening and Kirk readily agreed, always eager to show off his ship. They went to the rec rooms, the gym, the small gardens, and finally to Kirk’s favorite spot: the observation deck.

“I must admit, Captain, I’m impressed with your ship,” the ambassador said as they stared out at the black expanse of space. “You have nearly as many amenities as the guest quarters at Starfleet headquarters and your crew is friendly and obviously respects you. You run a very fine operation.”

“Don’t I know it,” Kirk said with satisfaction. “I’ve always said that I have the best crew in Starfleet and they prove it to me every day. You won’t find a more cohesive and loyal group anywhere else, I assure you.”

“I believe it. Of course, it is clear to me that such a reputation is just as attributable to the captain as the crew. I must admit, Captain, that I find myself impressed with you, as well. I have traveled on many star ships during my travels between worlds and have been… shall we say, less than impressed by the captains of those ships. Their actions and attitude were hardly better than that of the sailing ships or pirates from Earth’s past.”

“The extended responsibilities of spaceship captain in the depths of space affect every man differently,” Kirk said thoughtfully, careful not to express his own opinion on the matter. “I suppose in some ways it is very similar to the months spent at sea exploring the reaches of our home planet.”

“If only they could shoulder such responsibilities as admirably as you do, Captain,” Johnstead said with an admiring glance. “You say you’re from Earth as well. Which part?”

“North America; Iowa.”

“Of course. Tales of your bravery grace the front pages of nearly every news report in the country, but unfortunately I have not been on Earth for quite some time and I often find myself out of the loop.”

“You have more important things to do with your time than follow the sensationalized stories about the _Enterprise_. There’s no reason to regret that.”

“Are they all so inaccurate? There seems to be one story that appears to be consistent throughout your entire career.”

“Oh?”

Johnstead hummed in agreement, his dark eyes fixed on his in the dim light. “You’ve always been known as a very… open-minded man, Captain Kirk. Your reputation as a lover of all species is known almost as much as your other… exploits. I would wager that many of your diplomatic successes or failures have been alternately eased or hindered by your impressive libido.”

Kirk felt a flush of anger and embarrassment. “Sir, if you’re trying to insult me—”

“Oh, no! Certainly not, Captain, you misunderstand me!” Johnstead said, earnestly placing a warm hand on Kirk’s arm. His sensuous smile glinted in the light. “I was merely commenting on your flattering reputation. One such as myself could only hope that such a reputation is not merely… hearsay.”

Kirk stiffened and pulled his arm away smoothly. He smiled tightly. “Hearsay or not, Ambassador, I must inform you that I have not and will not ever engage in sexual congress of any kind while on my ship; not with my subordinates and not with visiting dignitaries. I must respectfully decline your generous offer.”

Johnstead’s own smile became somewhat frozen, but his eyes didn’t waver from Kirk’s. “Of course, Captain. I did not mean to imply any disrespect.”

“Think nothing of it.” Kirk relaxed slightly, turning back to the door. “It’s late; I’ll take you back to your quarters now.”

“Lead on.”

Kirk returned to his quarters, unsurprised to find Spock inside just beginning to set up a chess set. Spock had an uncanny sense for Kirk’s location that rivaled his time sense. He sat opposite the Vulcan with a deep sigh. They began playing in silence.

“I take it that the tour with Ambassador Johnstead went well?” Spock asked as he took Kirk’s rook.

“I suppose. The ambassador is as charming and engaging as he is said to be; maybe even more so. He made a pass at me on the observation deck and I had to turn him down flat.” Kirk said ruefully, smiling when he managed to take Spock’s bishop.

“Oh? I believe I am unfamiliar with the phrase, Captain. In what manner did he pass you?”

“It’s an idiomatic expression, Spock. It means that he indicated that he wanted to have sex with me. He was hardly subtle about it either; tried to tell me that he wouldn’t mind seeing if the rumors about my sexual exploits were true.” Kirk huffed. He noticed that Spock’s jaw clenched and his hands tightened around the edge of the table. He recognized the signs of Spock suppressing a strong reaction. After a moment, Spock relaxed and took his turn.

“Check. It would appear that the ambassador is not aware of several facts. For one, the articles in the news about your sexual activities have always been highly inaccurate and speculative in the extreme. For another, you have not engaged in casual sexual congress for several months.”

His mouth dropped open and he was pretty sure he was blushing. He hadn’t blushed in years. “Have you been keeping track of my sex life, Spock?” He choked.

The Vulcan raised an eyebrow. “Not in the way you mean, Jim. I am merely observant, and I learned to recognize your signs of sexual satiation within two weeks of becoming captain. Your promiscuity has decreased greatly over the last year and if it was not so beneficial for our mission, I would have encouraged you to visit Doctor McCoy.”

He gaped, fairly certain that there was a bit of Vulcan humor in there somewhere. Of course, it was true that he had had a very hard time adjusting to his decision not to sleep with any of his crew when he had first become captain—he had been sure he was going to strip the skin off of his own penis with how much attention his right hand was giving it—but he had been sure that no one else had noticed his struggles. Apparently not even his sexual habits had not escaped his First Officer’s keen notice. It made him hot with embarrassment and something else that he didn’t dare think about in Spock’s presence. Now he had to worry about Spock’s senses as well as his touch-telepathy.

 _What the hell does he mean by_ my _signs of “sexual satiation”?_

“I’m going to try very hard not to be freaked out by that information. And for the record, just because I’m becoming more responsible doesn’t mean that I need to have McCoy examine my head or my… sexual function. Everything is working just perfectly, I assure you.” He knew that well enough, at least.

“I am most gratified to hear that, Captain.” Spock said as placidly as ever, but Kirk had never had trouble reading the teasing in the Vulcan’s expression. He snorted and shook his head, suppressing his grin. He could only imagine Bones’ reaction if he ever heard of this. Of course, he never would as long as Kirk was alive.

* * *

The next day passed slowly. Kirk was relieved to be back on the bridge instead of babysitting visiting dignitaries, no matter how charming those dignitaries were. His place was in the command chair with his loyal, irreplaceable First Officer at his side. Unfortunately, he found more often than not that he often ran into Johnstead when he was not on the bridge; whether it was for a restroom break or lunch, the man was always there engaging him in conversation. Their conversation the night before had apparently been completely forgotten, much to his relief. He gave little thought to the small touches to his hands, shoulders, or back that the ambassador gave him, assuming it was because of his naturally affectionate personality. Spock, meanwhile, was becoming quieter and more tight-lipped than Kirk had seen him since his first weeks aboard the _Enterprise_ and he was worried.

“Spock, are you alright? You’ve been quieter than normal since the ambassador arrived.” He observed when the Vulcan joined him for dinner in his quarters (Spock’s idea, surprisingly). He was dressed only in a pair of low-slung sweats as he had just come from the shower and he was fully comfortable with his body in Spock’s presence. They had been together on too many missions and compromising positions not to be comfortable with each other.

He set down the book he had been reading and looked over his thin metal framed glasses he wore. They were old fashioned and practically archaic, but Kirk had always liked them and he had yet to hear a speech from Spock about how illogical it was to own a pair. In fact, if Kirk didn’t know any better, he would think that the Vulcan liked the glasses.

“I am quite functional, Captain.”

Kirk waved that away. “It’s Jim, Spock, you know it is when we’re in our quarters like this. Tell me what’s bothering you. Is it Johnstead?”

“It is nothing specific or factual. I am inexplicably concerned when it comes to the ambassador’s attention to you. I do not feel as if you are in danger, and yet I still feel… perturbed.”

“A gut feeling, Spock? I didn’t know you had it in you,” Kirk teased. He sobered when Spock barely reacted to the quip. “Can you be any more specific?”

“I cannot, C—Jim. I will meditate deeply on it tonight.”

“Let me know if you learn anything. Meanwhile, let’s eat.” They did so with casual conversation about the ship or any topic that struck their fancy. Kirk enjoyed even the driest of subjects when his friend was talking about them, no doubt because he would pay far more attention to the sound of Spock’s voice than his actual words. Tonight was no exception as they engaged in a lively debate over the purpose of a mosquito’s tendency to bite in the most tender and inaccessible areas on a human body. He delighted in Sock’s willingness to participate in such a silly and illogical discussion that he could barely stop grinning.

When they had finished, they set aside their dishes and settled into a comfortable silence as they each picked up the respective books they had brought. They occasionally did this when they both felt the need to unwind mentally after a long day; reading quietly in each other’s company and commenting when they came across an interesting passage. Kirk was reading a Standard translation of one of Vulcan’s oldest poets, Suha’ar. He found it to be increasingly intriguing.

“Spock, Suha’ar lived in the time before Surak, right?”

“Indeed, Jim. He was born 485 years before Surak.”

“He seems… different from the poets and prose writers after Surak. He’s more… passionate.” Kirk mused. Since taking command of a star ship that contained several different alien species, Kirk had made it a point to learn something about each of those cultures and was known to be eager to learn more. As he had grown closer to his First Officer, however, he had been motivated to become even more knowledgeable about the Vulcan culture; from the literature and history to their technological advances and physiology. He even took language lessons from Spock once in a while.

Spock looked thoughtful. “This is not surprising. Suha’ar grew up during one of the rare lulls in the warfare between tribes and it was not until he was a young man that he discovered the horrors of war. He maintained his romantic and effusive style, however. And, of course, all Vulcans of the pre-Surak order were known to be highly moved by their passions.”

“ _My passions burned as the desert, brazen and scorching./ The only balm to my enflamed soul was the touch of my_ t’hy’la _, parted and never parted/ Despite the wretched distance that persisted between him and I._ ” Kirk read, raising his eyebrows. “ _T’hy’la_ isn’t translated here.”

“As you know, the word is ancient and rarely used and its connotations defy translation. It is a deeply powerful concept.”

“Were Suha’ar and his _t’hy’la_ ever reunited?” Kirk asked and Spock’s face softened very slightly.

“Yes, Jim. They did eventually find each other years later when the war ceased in Suha’ar’s area.”

“They were lovers, weren’t they?” It was not a question; Kirk felt he already knew the answers. Kuha’ar wrote with an all-too familiar intensity of passion for their love to be simply platonic. Spock nodded.

“Yes, they were. The _t’hy’la_ bond—or warrior bond—as deep as theirs was permanent and abiding. They lived together for the rest of their lives, until Suha’ar’s lover died in war. Suha’ar followed soon after.”

Kirk nodded, pondering that. Spock had called him _t’hy’la_ before, usually in the midst of a mind meld or when either were gravely injured from a fire fight. He knew that there were varying degrees of the warrior bond and he could only fantasize about the increased depths of the connection between them if they were to add the part of “lover” to the “brother” and “friend” that already existed.

“Do Vulcans today find his writing to be… unseemly or offensive?” He asked curiously, putting away those thoughts for now. “I would’ve thought that Vulcans would find their homosexual relationship to be illogical.”

“Perhaps the most staid of Vulcans would find it to be so—his writing would not be read aloud in a mixed gathering in any case—but a bond of _t’hy’la_ is a rare thing, as deeply mental as it is physical, and it would be illogical to deny such a perfect compatibility of minds even for the sake of procreation. As to his writing, all Vulcans identify with Suha’ar’s words. After all, those intense passions that ruled the primitive Vulcans before Surak were not destroyed or removed; they were simply buried and controlled, only to be released during uncontrollable circumstances.”

Kirk knew that Spock wasn’t just talking about alien spores or mind-controlling beings; pon farr, the male Vulcan’s personal hell, was not so far distant that Spock could forget the blood lust and rage that overtook him. Kirk had nearly died that day. Still, he couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to have all of that intense focus and passion focused solely on him. In his pants, his penis twitched against his thigh.

“ _Kai’idith_ ,” Kirk said softly. _What is, is._

“Yes,” Spock agreed, meeting his eyes squarely. A static tension seemed to slowly develop between them as they remained silent, eyes locked. Kirk felt his heart rate increase, his blood flow beginning to move south, and he straightened in his chair, reaching out a hand to Spock’s on the table between them. Their eyes didn’t move and Spock didn’t move away. Kirk’s fingers drifted over the hot skin of the Vulcan’s knuckles, the index and middle fingers stroking down. They both shuddered at the sensations and Kirk felt a swell of emotion; affection, awe, arousal, anticipation, and love. The feelings crested and doubled, as if mirrored from another source. _Could it be?_

“ _T’hy’la—”_ he thought, knowing Spock could hear his thoughts through their touch, but he was cut off by a hailing whistle that pierced the silence in the room. Kirk’s hand jerked in shock and the contact was lost.

“Captain Kirk, Captain Kirk, please respond immediately.” Uhura’s voice sounded through the ship and Kirk jumped to his feet, recognizing the urgency in the call. He slapped the connection open.

“Kirk here. What is it?”

“We are being approached by an alien vessel, sir. They are on a collision course and do not seem to be slowing. They do not answer my hails.”

“We’ll be right there. Kirk out.” He shared a look with Spock before they were both moving toward the door. Kirk couldn’t help feeling frustrated but concern for his ship was quickly taking precedence. He would have time to explore what was happening between him and Spock later.

They entered the turbolift, surprised to find Ambassador Johnstead already inside. He looked surprised as well, zoning in appreciatively on Kirk’s bare chest before moving his gaze up and focusing just as intently on Kirk’s glasses. He didn’t seem to notice when Spock shifted a bit closer and brushed against Kirk’s shoulder, but Kirk certainly did.

“Captain! I was just coming to see if you would care to join me for—”

“I’m sorry, Ambassador, this is not the time. There is an emergency I must see to on the bridge. An ensign will show you back to your quarters until it is resolved.” The turbolift opened onto the bridge as he spoke and he brushed past the ambassador without another word.

To their credit, the bridge crew didn’t bat an eye when their captain stood at the command chair in casual pants and without a shirt, reading glasses perched on his nose and an old-style bound book clutched in his hand.

“Lieutenant Sulu, report,” he barked, watching the point of light representing the alien ship on the screen grow steadily larger.

“The ship appeared on the edge of our sensors three minutes ago, Captain, headed directly for us. Its design isn’t registered in the ship’s computer and its speed is quickly increasing.” Spock moved to the science station to confirm.

“Indeed, Captain, the vessel is unfamiliar. Its size is comparable to that of a large cargo carrier but its speed belies that conclusion.”

A timid yeoman tried to capture his attention but he ignored her. “Lieutenant Uhura?”

“I have been hailing at all frequencies, sir, but I hear no response.”

“Patch it through on all frequencies, universal translator.”

“Yes, sir.”

“This is Captain James Kirk of the star ship _Enterprise_. You are heading on a direct course for our vessel in Federation territory. Please acknowledge and change your course to avoid collision.”

There was no response.

“Sir, the vessel’s speed continues to increase and hasn’t altered course.”

“Scotty, full deflector shields on. Sulu, take evasive action. Everyone, hold on.”

There was a chorus of “Aye, sir,” and Kirk finally took his seat. The spot on the screen was rapidly approaching and it was clear that if they didn’t move soon they would impact within seconds.

“Sulu, get us out of their way. Hard right, thrusters on full!”

Sulu obeyed promptly and the crew held on as the entire ship seemed to tilt. There was a jarring shudder as the alien vessel glanced off their deflector shields and hurtled onward, just barely missing a full collision. Sulu pulled out of the steep turn and straightened the ship out. Kirk was out of his seat and at the science station seconds later.

“Just how fast was that thing moving? It must have been warp speed eleven at least.”

“The vessel was moving at warp factor thirteen when it collided tangentially with our shields. It… appears to be increasing speed as it moves away from us, Captain, and shows no sign of slowing or returning for another attack.”

“Thirteen? And faster?” Kirk repeated, incredulous. “Anything of that size and shape shouldn’t be able to reach warp seven, much less thirteen. It would break apart.”

“Indeed. And even a slight contact with our shields should have impacted the vessel hard enough to tear it apart at those speeds. And yet, it remained intact.” The Vulcan seemed intrigued.

“Could it have been… caught in some sort of field or force that was carrying it? Something that could have affected us?”

“Our sensors do not read any lingering energy of any kind from the impact. The alien vessel has just left the far edge of our sensors, as well.”

Kirk nodded, turning away. “Scotty, damage reports.”

“That little love tap set our shields back to 83%, sir, but we haven’t suffered any damages except for bruised limbs from that crazy dodge.”

“That ‘crazy dodge’ may have saved the rest of your shields, Scotty, if not the whole ship.” Kirk surveyed the bridge with a faint smile. “It looks like we may be in the clear on this one. Good work, all of you. Sulu, keep a sharp eye on our sensors for any sign of a return attack or something pursuing our rushed friend.”

“Aye, sir.”

“Captain.” The nervous yeoman from before appeared by his side and held out a folded gold command shirt with a deep blush, trying and failing to keep her eyes away from his exposed skin. Kirk took it with a smile.

“Ah, thank you, yeoman,” he said, pulling the shirt over his head and grunting with annoyance when it caught on his glasses and pulled them lopsided when his head emerged. He tugged the shirt down with one hand and straightened the glasses with the other. He was inwardly startled when he turned and saw the ambassador at his elbow, watching him with open appreciation.

“That was an impressive… display of command, Captain,” he said with a slow smile. “But I can’t help wondering if I should be worried.”

“I don’t think so, Ambassador. The alien vessel showed no signs of slowing or even hostility despite nearly running us down and it has long since left our scanner range. I would think that at that rate, it will soon be torn apart from the force. We have seen many strange—but ultimately benign—sights in space during the last few years and this was not one of the more notable ones.”

“I bow to your considerable experience, then. Captain, before this all happened, I was on my way to ask whether you wanted to join me a drink and some cards this evening. We can change it to some celebratory wine for our narrow escape.”

Kirk smiled ruefully. “I’m afraid I have to decline, Ambassador. I will be remaining on the bridge for some time before returning to my quarters for the evening. It’s been quite a busy day.”

Johnstead’s smile faltered for a split second into a frown before it was back brighter than ever. “Of course, I understand. Enjoy your night, then, Captain.” He touched a hand to Kirk’s arm.

“And you as well.”

He shared a look with Spock as the turbolift closed behind the ambassador. He quirked a smile and Spock’s minute frown smoothed out before they turned their attention back to monitoring the bridge.

* * *

It was nearly two hours later before Bones stormed up to the bridge and forced them out, saying that they were supposed to be off duty six hours ago and he didn’t want to treat the commanding officers for exhaustion as well as the bumps and bruises of the rest of the crew.

Kirk and Spock left the bridge still deep in discussion over possible explanations for the alien vessel’s strange actions. They walked close and in sync through the hallways, shoulders brushing every other step and heads bent close in quiet but earnest conversation. It was a familiar and comforting sight to the crew to see their commanding officers in such a close friendship—many speculated the true extent of their relationship, citing that Spock only allowed the captain to touch him casually and that Kirk often invited the Vulcan to his rooms for “chess”—and they naturally parted around them as they approached their quarters.

Kirk paused outside of Spock’s door when the Vulcan made to step inside. “ _Spock, I think we need to talk_ ,” he said in Vulcan, keeping his voice low. Spock’s expression didn’t change.

“ _Perhaps you are correct, Jim_.” They moved down to the door of Kirk’s quarters. Once it was open, however, they were surprised to find Ambassador Johnstead, wrapped in a house robe and seated on his desk. He looked equally surprised to see them, or at least Spock.

“Captain! I’m glad you’re back. I know you said you were going to retire for the evening, but I found myself with something of an emergency.”

“Ambassador, this is highly irregular. How did you get into my personal quarters?”

“I found your yeoman when I was trying to find you. It took some convincing, but she agreed to let me in to wait for you. You have a very loyal crew; with good reason, of course.”

Kirk frowned. “I see. And just what sort of emergency do you have?”

“It’s personal, Captain. I was hoping I could speak to you about it alone; Mr. Spock understands, I’m sure.” Johnstead smiled flirtatiously.

“I understand, Ambassador,” Spock replied tonelessly, though Kirk noted that his shoulders were tight. He nodded at the two of them. “I will leave you. Ambassador, Captain.”

“We will continue our discussion after I see to the ambassador, Mr. Spock,” Kirk said, trying to convey some apology and frustration. The Vulcan nodded.

“Yes, sir.”

The two men kept their positions after Spock left, eyeing one another like combatants on a field of war. “Now, what can I help you with, Ambassador?” Kirk said finally.

“I didn’t know you wore reading glasses, Captain.” Johnstead said. Kirk furrowed his eyebrows at the non-sequitor. “I’ve always been… fascinated with glasses and I must say that you look particularly attractive in them.”

“Thank you, but I must remind you that I have little time. You said that you had an emergency…?” Decorum was barely preventing him from rolling his eyes at Johnstead’s persistent swarthiness.

“Ah yes, it’s a difficult little problem, but could I ask if I may see your glasses first? They’re so rare now, you see.” Kirk stepped closer and held out the glasses impatiently. With a quick movement and a flash of metal, Johnstead had his wrist in his grip and the metal ring of a handcuff cinched tightly beneath his hand. When Kirk moved to retaliate with his other hand, Johnstead grabbed it and hauled Kirk close against him between his legs, forcing his arms behind him and closing the other half of the handcuffs around his free wrist.

Johnstead wrapped his legs tightly around Kirk’s, limiting his movements and forcing him tightly against his groin, where Kirk could feel that he was hard and excited.

“What are you doing, Johnstead?” Kirk demanded angrily. “Assaulting a Starfleet officer in any manner is grounds for a court martial.”

Johnstead buried his nose against Kirk’s throat and bit hard, laughing against his wet skin. “Assaulting? Who would ever believe that _this_ is assault, especially with the infamous James T. Kirk? You’re known for sleeping your way across the galaxy and if you enjoy a little bit of bondage with your play, well, that would be no surprise at all, now would it?”

Kirk gritted his teeth and struggled harder, managing to shove Johnstead back enough to knock over a glass on the table, where it shattered on the floor. Johnstead moved with him, thrusting his hips against him and moaning in arousal. His robe fell open from between his legs and Kirk saw that he was naked underneath. Kirk cast around for something to say to stop this ridiculousness; to hell with manners.

“I don’t know what you’re trying to accomplish, you asshole, because I _will_ take you down for this, but I didn’t reject you because I’m a cocktease. Not only are you a needy, overbearing, simpering _slut_ , but I’m already with someone.”

Johnstead threw his head back and laughed, running his hands over Kirk’s immobilized body. “Oh really? That’s a laugh. And who is this fantasy lover?”

“Me.” The voice was a deep growl, barely distinguishable as Spock’s. His heart jumping in his chest—and not just from relief ( _Who knew that Spock could even make a sound like that?_ )—Kirk saw the Vulcan stalking swiftly toward them, fierce anger and possessiveness in every line of his body. “The Captain is mine and you will cease touching him immediately.”

Johnstead’s grip relaxed in shock and Kirk finally threw himself out of his grip, stumbling and nearly falling from the momentum. Spock caught him, pulling him tight against his hot form. Kirk could feel the vibrations of the low growl in his chest as he stared at the man spread wantonly on Kirk’s desk.

“If you do not want to be brought before a court martial on charges of assault, indecency, and improper conduct, you will leave here immediately and return to your quarters. You will not leave them for the duration of the trip to Starbase 12 and you will not contact the Captain in any manner that is not strictly official. Your meals will be brought to you. You will be watched. Do you understand?”

Johnstead flushed with rage and stood, tying his robe around him with jerky movements. He wasn’t aroused anymore. “Yeah, I understand,” he snorted. “The Federation whore played with fire one too many times and got himself saddled with a fucking alien robot. How does it feel knowing that you’ve got the sloppy seconds of half the beings in the galaxy, Vulcan?”

Spock was halfway across the room in a matter of moments and Johnstead bolted out of the door with a womanly yelp. The Vulcan stood frozen in front of the door as if stopping himself from following before he returned to Kirk’s side. He moved behind him and snapped open the handcuffs like they were plastic, turning Kirk around and taking his wrists in hand to examine the reddened rings in the skin.

“Are you harmed, _t’hy’la_?” He asked in a softer tone. Kirk leaned into him slightly and shook his head.

“No, just bruised. I’m fine, Spock.” He drew back a little and looked up into his friend’s face with raised eyebrows and a smirk. “So, I’m yours now, huh? When were you going to tell me this?”

Spock stiffened and stepped back completely. “I apologize, Captain. I do not know what came over me; I simply said what I—”

Kirk chuckled and stepped into his space again, settling his hands on Spock’s hips. “That’s ok; I think you said what we were both thinking. It’s what I wanted to tell you tonight, anyway, before the enemy ship interrupted us.”

Spock looked down at him gravely. “Are you sure, Jim? I know what my heart and mind yearn for, but do you?”

“I’ve been studying Vulcan culture and biology ever since you came aboard my ship, Spock. I know what we’re suggesting and I know what I’m getting into. I want it. I think I’ve wanted it ever since I realized T’Pring had rejected the finest man in the universe.”

Spock’s eyes softened with the hint of a smile. “A most illogical declaration, but I expect no less from you.”

“Illogical? I’ll show you illogical,” Kirk growled, reaching up to pull the Vulcan into a searing kiss, weaving his fingers through silken black hair. His lips parted in a quest for deepening the kiss and Spock obliged, mapping Kirk’s cool mouth with his own tongue. It was heated and fast and simultaneously hard and tender. Kirk’s heart felt like it was going to burst out of his chest. He pulled away with a gasp, laying open-mouthed, sucking kisses across Spock’s jaw and neck as he regained his breath. One of Spock’s hands remained clasped on his waist while the other migrated to the back of his neck, massaging slightly before moving to the familiar meld positions.

Kirk nuzzled into the touch like an affectionate cat, opening heavy eyes to meet those of his new lover. “Yes,” he whispered. “Do it.”

“ _My mind to your mind, my thoughts to your thoughts,_ ” Spock said in Vulcan, and the outside world disappeared. Kirk only knew overwhelming joy, love, anticipation, and affection. Their minds joined in a paroxysm of delight and all extraneous thought faded away until they were left only with the awareness of the other’s true essence. They weaved and danced together in a world with no end or boundaries, exploring the pulsing, growing bond between them. When they finally emerged from the meld, they each felt bereft of the intensely close contact but were content with the strength of their bond.

“I can still feel you,” Kirk said with awe. “If I concentrate, I can hear your thoughts and feel your emotions.”

“It is the same for me, _t’hy’la_. I will teach you how to minimize the sensation when you have a need for privacy or concentration.”

“Later, Spock, later,” Kirk breathed, pressing close. Spock wrapped his arms tightly around him.

“Jim,” he whispered into his hair, sounding choked. “Parted from me and never parted, never and always touching and touched.”

Kirk said it back to him against his lips, reaching to grab his hand and play with the fingers. Their fingers stroked and pressed, mimicked by their members pressed against each other’s belly, faster and more desperately until Kirk stiffened and came with a cry. Spock followed after when he felt the echo of his release, shuddering into his mate’s form. They clung tightly to each other as the tremors subsided, breathing hard and pressing lazy kisses to flushed skin.

Kirk pulled back, wincing at the sticky feeling in his pants. He hadn’t come in his pants since he was a teenager. He smiled up at Spock’s faintly flushed face, wishing he could have seen his expression as he climaxed. Luckily, there would be many more opportunities. Maybe even tonight…

Spock’s lips twitched, obviously having caught his thoughts. He took Kirk by the hand and led him to the restroom. “Come, _t’hy’la_ , let’s cleanse ourselves before making further plans for the evening.”

“Good idea.” Kirk followed eagerly, turning on the water shower before Spock could protest. By the time he turned around, Spock had already removed his clothes in his efficient manner and he barely caught a glimpse of Spock’s tight ass before he disappeared into the sonic shower. Kirk grinned to himself and pulled off his own clothes before jumping in under the warm spray.

As he washed himself, he searched in his mind for the bright warm spot that felt like Spock and poked it with a child-like mischievousness. Spock poked back with a curious feeling and amusement heavily underscored by contentment. Kirk settled himself snugly next to their bond and attempted to send his thoughts.

“ _You know, people don’t generally shower separately after having sex together for the first time.”_

“ _That is illogical. Each individual shower is not large enough to fit two people comfortably and while I prefer sonics, you enjoy the water shower. It is logical for us to occupy the shower we prefer.”_

“ _You and your logic. Humans don’t care how illogical or uncomfortable it is; they make it work.”_

“ _Humans are known for their irrationality.”_

“ _You love me anyway.”_

“ _Indeed.”_

“ _And I love you, too. Vulcan logic and all.”_

He turned off the shower and reached for a towel, drying himself off and wrapping it around his waist. He exited the shower and met Spock, also clad in a towel, just outside the door.

“You know,” he said casually, shifting to stand close to Spock. “You’re showing a bit of irrationality as well.”

“Oh?” His eyebrow was cocked doubtfully. Kirk nodded.

“After all, it’s highly illogical to take a shower when you plan on getting dirty again immediately afterwards, isn’t it?” He slid a hand down Spock’s chest and fingered the edge of his towel. Spock took in a sharp breath.

“Oh,” he breathed, “perhaps you are correct.”

“See, I knew you would see things my way,” Kirk said with a devilish grin and tore the towel away.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Liked my writing? You might like my Tumblr. rosyourboat.tumblr.com


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